


Sweet Like Candy, But He's Such a Man

by oneforyourfire



Series: Suho Birthday Sextravaganza [2]
Category: C-Pop, EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 00:05:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: Messy, sticky, a treat.His treat. (aka suhan used whipped cream and rut au)





	Sweet Like Candy, But He's Such a Man

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: food play, dead ship™
> 
> [every look, every touch makes me wanna give you my heart~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zkp8XrPVd1c)

It’s so much messier than Joonmyun anticipated, the whipped cream melting across the taut skin on Lu Han's throat, his collarbone, his chest, streaking down in his body in warm, gooey, gooey rivulets to the fine hair on his stomach, spilling also across their sheets.

Messier, stickier, and something in him smarts, races over the aftermath, the clean up, but it’s brief—brief, brief because Joonmyun feels drunk on the taste of his skin, the fine quiver of it, too, how his muscles tremble as he arches into his touch.

Messy, sticky, a treat. _His treat_.

Joonmyun’s hands feel extra clumsy, tacky as they slide down his body, mouth feels extra clumsy, tacky as it slides over his throat, his chest. Clumsy, tacky, sticky, sticky, sticky.

But Joonmyun loves the way Lu Han quivers as he drags his mouth across his nipples, looping his hand around his waist to pull him closer, urge him even harder. Loves the restless way that Lu Han’s feet skate over their sheets, the way his dark hair whispers over the pillowcase, the way his hands fist in Joonmyun’s hair and _tug_. Loves the way the aching sticky-sweetness of whipped cream mixes with the natural salt of his skin. Sugar and skin—man, man, man. 

“Gege,” Joonmyun says, scraping his chin over the lingering residue on Lu Han's stomach, groaning at the way it continues to streak across his pale, trembling, goosebumped skin, leaving him a sticky, sticky, debauched portrait of desire. Joonmyun nips at the sharp cut of his hipbone, and they both moan.

And Joonmyun also loves the way that Lu Han's hips jump at the honorific, the way his face pinches with a soft, rasped curse, the way he bites his lip, fans his eyelashes as he watches him over his heaving, sticky, messy, stained chest. He's so beautiful. He's so his.

"Gege," he repeats.

And it's sticky, messy, too, the way that Lu Han's cock drags over Joonmyun's sternum, the way he pulses and jerks as Joonmyun nuzzles into his thigh, explores the thin, trembling, trembling skin with wet, wet, sloppy, sloppy kisses, lingering bites. Sticky, messy the way Joonmyun grinds down on their rumpled, tacky sheets to alleviate the painfully sweet ache between his legs.

Lu Han's hands are strong as they tangle in his hair, urging him lower, lower, lower, and Joonmyun is—as is often the case—overwhelmed by just _how_ much he wants him. Always, always, always. 

"Suck me off, Joonmyunnie," Lu Han cajoles, and Joonmyun shivers at the way his hands become suddenly coaxing, smoothing through his hair, whispering over his scalp, down, down down to mold along the nape of his neck. His thumbs dig just the slightest, make him gasp, feel even clumsier with desire.

Sticky, too. Messy, too.

Arousal pulses weakly through his body, an all-too familiar reverberating need.

Joonmyun slides, slides, slides. He lets Lu Han's erection skim his cheek, moans at how messy and sticky that is, too, even without the gooey, sugary residue of whipped cream, thinks about how it probably paints his skin filthy and wanton and beautiful, too, and Lu Han scrapes his fingernails, the perfect, perfect sting, moans like he appreciates the visual, too.

Joonmyun mouths sloppily along his shaft, tongue fluttering then curling, teasing, teasing, teasing—them both—before swallowing him down.

And Joonmyun also loves how heavy and hot he sits on Joonmyun's tongue, loves how he stretches the corner of his lips, loves how he throbs, loves how he moans, loves how his thighs—his strong, strong soccer thighs—quiver in his hold. Loves the musky, bitter taste. Sticky, messy, hot, hot, hot, hot. Moaning, he savors it for the half dozen bobs he's allowed before Lu Han's fingers are tugging, tugging, tugging, urging him upwards.

"You, too. You, too."

It’s sticky, too, messy, too, they way they crash into each other. Their chests, stomachs adhere, lips, noses, foreheads, hips bump. They moan in unison again. 

And it's stickier yet, sloppier yet, sweeter yet when Joonmyun buries his face in Lu Han's throat, tastes more of that heady mix of painful sweetness, musky, musky skin, man and sugar, Lu Han, Lu ge, Lu ge, Lu ge. 

“ _Please_.” 

Lu han licks his palm before groping downwards to touch them both, sloppy, fast, fast, fast. He punctuates every stroke with hard sharp little kisses, sweet, soft little moans, and he's already trembling in that quiet, heavy way he does whenever he's close, close, close.

Joonmyun groans into his throat, pushes into the touch, nips helplessly when Lu Han's stroke twists, his thumb dragging deliberately under the head of his cock, skilled and all-too-familiar even though he’s close, close, close. Joonmyun whimpers—Lu ge—feels the rapid kiss of Lu Han's dark, heavy, long, long eyelashes against his throat, the telltale jerk of his cock against Joonmyun's.

Lu ge. Lu ge. Lu ge.

Their aerosol can of whipped cream lies open, upended, abandoned on their nightstand, rolls completely off the darkened wood to somewhere on the carpet when Lu Han gropes for lube.

It makes the slide slicker, sloppier, messy, messy, messy, perfect, perfect, perfect, and Joonmyun twists his neck to watch. He catches Lu Han's dark eyes instead, all oversized and beautiful and hazed over with lust.

Lu Han's beauty—even cut like this, stained like this with arousal, all flushed and sweaty and breathless, streaked in sugar, sticky, messy, messy—it's still startling, still utterly staggering.

And Lu Han so often feels too soft, too beautiful to be real sometimes, to be _his_ sometimes with those;his large eyes, thick eyelashes, pink lips, pale, perfect, perfect skin, hard, hard, throbbing, throbbing cock. 

Overcome, overwhelmed, overrun with need, Joonmyun pushes into him even harder, shuddering at the heat, the friction. The pleasure is sharp and hot and perfect, drugging, drugging, drugging, consuming, consuming, consuming, mounting, mounting, mounting. His arms tremble near Lu Han's shoulders, and Lu Han reaches up to tug him down, fingers clumsier but no less sure as they stroke, stroke, stroke. His other hand stumbles over face, too shaky to be cradling, thumb too heavy, too rough as it drags over his cheekbone, stumbles over his eyelashes, his eyebrow, his forehead. 

“Joonmyunnie.” 

"Lu ge," Joonmyun gasps, and everything goes white.

**Author's Note:**

> 2/11
> 
> "sweet"


End file.
